


Into the Woods

by BrokenHeadphones



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Aquaphobia, Nightmares, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2018-10-03 08:37:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10240490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrokenHeadphones/pseuds/BrokenHeadphones
Summary: After Wirt and Greg returned from the Unknown, things were different. Sure, Greg was just as cheerful as usual (ish), but the Unknown had changed them, and had molded Wirt into an puzzle piece that didn't fit outside the Unknown anymore. All he wants to do is forget about all of it and go back to normal.Unfortunately, the Unknown doesn't care.





	1. Something clever

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Alternative Bend](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6098333) by [rymyanna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rymyanna/pseuds/rymyanna). 



> Uhm, so hi  
> I would fangirl about OtGW here, but if you're here, you probably know how amazing the show is.  
> Anyway, I'm terrible about writing on a schedule, but I have some stuff already ready, so I'll try to update once a week.  
> Maybe.
> 
> Also, check out rymyanna's Over the Bend series, it's absolutely amazing. I can't even.

After that Halloween, things were different.

_ They _ were different.

And at first, everyone chalked it up to trauma—it made sense, considering that Greg and Wirt had narrowly avoided being hit by a train by falling down a hillside and almost drowning. The others didn’t get that it wasn’t about that. They didn’t understand the Unknown. They couldn’t. The only ones who could were Wirt and Greg and Jason Funderburker and they didn’t need anyone to understand because they  _ couldn’t _ .

So when Wirt couldn’t even take a  _ freaking shower _ by himself without thinking of the dark, the cold,  _ water everywhere _ , the snow,  _ in his lungs _ , the ice, and it burned and  _ where is Greg Beatrice someone help _ , Greg learned to sit outside the bathroom, acting like he just happened to be playing with Jason Funderburker in the hallway while their mom and Greg’s dad watched on in worry. And when Greg woke at the sound of the wind whistling, singing, the night coming, the edelwood growing around him, the shadows calling for him to  _ give up, give in, and all will be well _ , Wirt would come and hold him and keep the roots away for one more night.

Sara didn’t try to understand, for which Wirt was grateful. Their only acknowledgment of the events that happened over the wall was a subtle squeeze whenever Wirt spaced out, a head pressing gently on his shoulder whenever he thought of Beatrice or Lorna, an umbrella and a ride home from school when it rained. Often, she would accompany him to the river bank, not prying when he would both recoil and lean forward at whatever he saw in the water (she seemed to know, somehow, that Wirt didn’t see what she saw: a scrawny, tall teenage boy with messy brown hair, dark eyes, and a sensitive soul). She was a comforting presence; every glance, or touch, or kiss seemed to ground him no matter what was happening in his head.

Until one day, she stopped. It was subtle—she was too busy to go to the riverbank, one day, or she wanted to go somewhere a little more…public, the next. She never  _ ignored _ him, but after a point, she wouldn’t look him in the eyes, or she would flinch from his touch (and then try to hide it in a shiver and a ‘wow, it’s a little cold for March, don’t you think?’). Wirt couldn’t think of a reason, but eventually, he stopped too. He still had Greg and Jason Funderburker and the riverbank. Greg went along with him to the riverbank, then, and the pair would watch Jason Funderburker hop, or they would stare at the trees on the other side, or they would talk until the sun had sent, and then they would return home before their mom and Greg’s dad started to worry. For some reason, their mom and Greg’s dad worried. The riverbank wasn’t the problem. The train tracks weren’t the problem. The only problem was the Beast and the forest, the forest on the other side of the riverbank.

“Do you think if we walked into the water, we’d go back?” Greg asked absently one day, as Wirt stared into the water. The elder tossed a stone across the water, though it splashed and sunk immediately. He picked up another rock, a terrible skipping rock, medium-sized and round, “Maybe. Next Halloween or something.”

“You think so?” Greg’s voice was conflicted. Wirt held up the rock, “It’s at least a rock fact.”

Greg grinned, and Wirt smiled in reply, though much smaller. He turned back to the water, and threw the rock, rippling his reflection. The ripples made his eyes look different—pink and blue and yellow in the sunset. Pink, blue, yellow, pink, blue, yellow, pink, blue— Wirt’s eyes shifted upwards toward a movement on the other bank. The shiver of the underbrush, the sway of branches, and the slow crawl of the roots waved at him.

“Do you think that…he’s here?”

Jason Funderburker croaked, and Greg nodded in thought, “Jason Funderburker’s right. We’d see his funny eyes if he was.”

Wirt paused, and stared, and watched the roots. They had stopped, at least for now. Wirt grabbed another rock, terrible for skipping, and tossed it anyway, watching the ripples. Brown and tan and the yellow of his sweater danced. He stood, and dusted off his pants. Wirt held his hand out for Greg, and the boy took it with a grin, hopping up. The younger scooped up Jason Funderburker, and the elder looked back one last time. The reflection of the sunset stared back, pink and blue and yellow, and that night, Wirt and Greg and Jason Funderburker slept in the same room.


	2. something witty

Wirt settled at the riverbank, placing his bag on the ground next to him. Although spring was fast approaching, the cold fought back and the north wind blew. Wirt didn’t shiver, because he couldn’t let himself feel the cold- if he did, he would remember the cold and the snow and Greg wasn’t there to help so he had to ignore it and it would go away. So he threw stones, and watched the ripples, brown and tan and yellow bobbing on the surface.

Wirt paused, and looked up, and watched the roots. The shiver of the underbrush, the sway of a lantern, and the slow crawl of the roots waved at him.

No.

The water of the river started to frost over, the gentle crack of ice forming carrying over the divide. The lantern peeked out of the cover of shade, and the sun disappeared. It didn’t set, because the sun set was a gentle pink and yellow and blue and this wasn’t gentle. It was cold and harsh, and Wirt scrambled up to his feet.

“Why are you afraid?”

A dark hand appeared, preceding a dark arm and a dark figure.

“You defeated me once, didn’t you? Why are you afraid?”

The only thing Wirt could find was a weak mimicry of his voice, “I’m-- I’m not. Afraid. Of you.”

“Are you not?”

The ice advanced, and with it, a shadow.

“I’m-- we left! We left the Unknown, so just leave us alone!”

The lantern paused halfway across the lake.  
“You may have left the Unknown, but it has never left you. The forest is not easily forgotten.”

The lake was a gentle sheet of lifelessness, and the grass between it and Wirt faded to white.

“Go away! Just leave and take the forest with you!”

The shadow’s head cocked.

“Ah, but I can’t. Not anymore. Do you know why I am here?”

Wirt fumbled for his bag, his eyes not leaving the figure in front of him even as he stepped back.

“I don’t care!”

“You should. For you see, I found something interesting...despite how much of the edelwood’s oil I burn, I feel myself growing weaker. The forest, though it responds to me, does not answer to me anymore. So I pondered as I wandered throughout the forest and I realised that the forest had replaced me.

“Someone else was to wander through the woods, led by lanternlight and lost souls.”

The shadow walked forward once more, and the thin frost held fast onto Wirt. The lantern was outstretched for Wirt to take, “This, I believe, is yours.”

The frost could still him, but it couldn’t make him move. Wirt’s hands clenched at his sides, “You can’t fool me! I know what you did to the Woodsman, what you tried to do to me!”

“Shall I blow it out, and snuff our lives, and leave the lantern for anyone to be trapped inside it?”

The lantern retreated, and moved upwards, and opened. A wind blew through, causing the flame to flicker.

Wirt’s stomach seized, and when the wind finally stopped, he had to catch his breath before he could speak.

“What...did you…?”

“There is only one way.”

And then, the Beast spoke with a voice both young and old, melodic and cracky, _“There is only the forest. And there is only surrender.”_

 

~

 

When Wirt awoke, there was only Greg and Jason Funderburker and the riverbank and a lantern. He sat up, immediately bringing his hands up to cradle his headache, “Ugh...what happened? Greg?”

“That's my name, don't wear it out! Where’d you find the lantern?” Greg asked, reaching for the lantern. “Did you want one so you--”

“Don’t touch that!” Wirt shouted, and Greg’s hand hesitated a moment from the handle, “Wirt?”

“I just-- it’s not mine. You don’t know whose it is or- or where it belongs. Just...don’t.”

“It’s not yours? So you _weren’t_ planning on camping?”

“No, Greg, I’m not-- why on earth would I be camping?”

“Because it’s fun, duh!” Greg grinned. Wirt stood, and messed up Greg’s hair, “Whatever. Let’s get you home; it’s already night. Can’t believe Mom let you leave the house.”

“Oh, we’ve been out for a while. You just wouldn’t wake up!”

Wirt paused, then asked, “You mean as in you tried and I didn’t wake? Or as in, you just waited for me to wake up?”

Greg shrugged, biting his lip, “Well, I mean, I kinda tried, but you look tired, and you stayed up for me last night, so--”

Greg broke off his thought as Wirt picked him up. Wirt grunted, “Someone’s getting too big for this...but anyway, Greg, I do that because I- well, you don’t have to feel bad. But...thank you for thinking of me.”

Greg grinned, “Anytime, brother o’ mine!”

As they walked home, Jason Funderburker croaking alongside, Wirt didn’t spare a glance at the gently glowing light behind them.

 

 

_“You cannot avoid the Unknown, Wirt. Gregory tried to take the burden from you._

_Shall he do so again? Even now, what must he sacrifice for his brother’s love?_

_Shall he feed your flame? Give his life for yours? Become the forest so you may live?_

_The forest will not be denied, Wirt._

_This is your fate, this lantern is your life now and the forest is your bones_.”

 

Wirt shot up, taking deep breaths, muttering between pants, “No, no, no...no...no, no…”

He glanced towards the window-- still night. Or 3:18 in the morning, according to his clock, which was lit by...a familiar lantern. It said something that it took Wirt half a minute to process this and another few seconds to jump.

“What- how- I left it. Right? ...right?” Wirt took a deep breath and lied down, staring up at the ceiling, “Alright, if I wasn’t going crazy before, I certainly am now. Why now? It’s the stress, right? That’s it. It’s just a dream, and I’m just going to go back to dream-bed and then everything will be fine.”

Talking to yourself out loud made things seem more real...or more ridiculous. Still, Wirt turned on his side (away from the dream-lantern) and closed his eyes, pacing his breathing until he fell asleep.

 

~

 

The lantern was still there come morning. Greg noted it when he burst in to wake Wirt up.

“When did you pick it up?” Greg asked, once he had finished bouncing Wirt awake. Wirt groaned when he saw the metal and the flame and _it was still there_. Greg happily threw off Wirt’s covers, “Come on, lazybones, it’s already almost noon! Oh, wow, it’s still burning? My teacher says that leaving things like that burning is a fire hazard.”

“Greg, don’t mess with it.”

“Are you hazarding fire, Wirt?”

“Greg…” Wirt muttered, but stopped. After a moment’s thought, a smile slid onto his face as he grabbed Greg, “Yep. I’m gonna start a fire, and- and cook you and eat you! Nom nom nom!”

Greg giggled as Wirt tickled him, playfully fighting back, “Ah! Don’t eat me!”

“Well, then you’d better get me something to eat fast!”

The younger scrambled out of his brother’s arms with a grin, “Come _on_ , Wirt, get out of bed before I dump cereal on your face.”

“Really, Greg, that’s how you feed a bea-- a monster?” Wirt smiled as he slid out of bed, pointedly ignoring the light on his bedside table.

To touch it would mean…well, it wasn’t his lantern. It wasn’t.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I worry about the pacing of this :/
> 
> Also, I think I make Wirt too much of a caring big brother, because every time I watch the show, I'm like 'no wirt no greg is a precious bby what are you doing'. But uhm, yeah. Hope you enjoyed. I'm not good at this.
> 
> Yeah.


	3. into the valley of death

_“You feel it, don’t you? I_ _n your bones,_

_your muscles, your brain, your heart..._

_you feel the edelwood’s oil burning out..._

_flickering into nothingness..._

_taking you with it..._

_you fear it, don’t you?_

_Yet you fear the lantern. Which will win out, Wirt?_

_Your fear of death or your fear of life?”_

 

Wirt awoke half-asleep, and it was half-asleep that he took hold of the lantern. Wirt stared at the flame, murmuring to the forest, the Unknown, the Beast, “Why? Why me? I don’t want to deal with you anymore...just leave me alone…”

The flame burned on, oblivious to his worries or burning in spite of them. It was hard to tell. Wirt sighed, staring outside. The sun was starting to rise, and it hurt his eyes. He looked away, at the lantern.

It was the weekend, so his mom and Greg’s dad would worry if he just disappeared. He didn’t even know how to enter or exit the Unknown. Even if he got there, he would have to...he couldn’t just _kill_ someone, and how would he even get an axe, and-- and the flame was fading by the day. If he didn’t do it, then...he would...and Greg would be left alone…

He left his room, and knocked on Greg’s door before he peeked in. Greg was sound asleep despite the knocking. Wirt gently sat on the edge of his brother’s bed, shaking the younger awake, “Greg...hey, Greg.”

Greg groaned as he woke, rubbing at his eyes as he sleepily sat up, “Wirt?”

“Hey, uhm...you know that lantern?”

Greg nodded.

“It’s...okay, well, I’m gonna be away today. Don’t worry, okay? I’ll try to be back before school tomorrow.”

“Where are you going, Wirt? Do you wanna take Jason Funderburker?”

Wirt gave a small chuckle, “No, thank you… you take care of him, alright? I’ll see you tomorrow. Maybe tonight.”

He placed a kiss on his younger brother’s forehead before he rubbed the other’s hair, “Alright, you can go back to bed now. It’s still a little early.”

As Greg burrowed under his covers, he mumbled, “Be safe, Wirt.”

Wirt smiled as he left. It faded as soon as Greg’s door was shut, however, and his hand tensed around the lantern’s handle.

 

~

 

“Ah, you’ve arrived, Wirt. I had wondered how long you would take,” the shadow’s voice murmured as Wirt stopped in front of the river. “Come now, we don’t have much time.”

“Easier said than done,” Wirt muttered as he looked around for some sort of bridge to the other side.

“It’s as simple as walking. Do hurry.”

Wirt raised an eyebrow skeptically at the _water_ in front of him. He took one step further towards the water’s edge and, somehow, a magical bridge appeared and everything was just peachy-- pfft, as if. He inched once more to the edge, and stopped. He backed up, glaring at the trees just past the river.

“No, you know what? This is stupid. This is dumb and idiotic and I’m not throwing myself into a river for your amusement!”

“The river will only listen if you speak. Have confidence. Speak your wishes. The Unknown will provide to the best of its ability, Wirt.”

“Says the same shadow creature thing that tried to kill me,” Wirt mumbled. Yeah, his reaction to the wind blowing on the lantern the night before was undeniable, but maybe _he_  had summoned some of the night-air-death-poison that killed Adelaide or something equally sane. Maybe this was all a huge hoax. Probably. Ugh.

“Okay, river, give me ice, don’t kill me,” Wirt said, and then took a step forward. Surprisingly, thankfully, under his foot was ice. Wirt took another step, then one more. The ice preceded his steps, barely. It wasn’t as impressive as the shadow’s bridge, but it kept him above bad memories. His trip across the river was slow, but he was dry as he stepped on grass and the lantern was lit and that was all that mattered.

“Good. You will improve with experience,” spoke the shadow, the only indication of his presence being two white lights where his eyes should be. Wirt paused, halfway between melting ice and the treeline, “Why are you- why is this happening? This whole thing makes no sense.”

The wind sighed.

“Perhaps to you it seems that way. The Unknown has a will of its own, and its designs are not for either of us to reason why. I am getting frustrated, Wirt.”

“So I’m supposed to believe that you’re doing this because a forest is telling you to?”

“Come. We will have time for your questions later. You are in a hurry to return to young Gregory, are you not?”

A sudden breath of wind came from behind Wirt, prodding him to the forest. The lantern’s flickering forced Wirt to remember why he had come here in the first place.

Wirt took a breath, then murmured to himself, “Once more into the Unknown, dear friends.”

 

~

 

The shadow wordlessly led Wirt through the forest (the Unknown, maybe? There was no discernible shift). Wirt not-so-wordlessly followed, “So, what, is the Unknown sentient? Because you're talking like its your boss, but _you’re_ the one who turns people in trees; I saw you try to do the same to Greg.

“How did you get your soul in the lantern?

“How did _my_ soul get in the lantern?

“Where are you taking me?

“Are we in the Unknown or just a random forest?

“Are you ever going to answer my questions?”

And, most recently: “Why are we stopping at a creepy abandoned shack and I knew it you’re going to try to kill me-- wait, I have your life in my hands, that would be dumb-- but maybe the Unknown wants us both gone for some--”

“Hush, Wirt.”

For once, the shadow’s voice took on an...almost mildly comforting tone. Maybe even a touch amused. Or at least, not ominous and hinting at Wirt's imminent demise. One dark hand took the handle of the door and opened it with a gentle creak, “Welcome to one of my humble houses.”

Wirt rose an eyebrow, stubbornly holding his ground until the shadow entered the shack, preferring to follow the shade rather than expose his back. He raised the lantern as he walked inside, glancing around, “You...live here?”

“I live in the Unknown. I occasionally dwell in these, shall we say, hideaways. Unlike the Woodsman, we cannot all find abandoned mills to inhabit while grinding the edelwood. They also serve as convenient traps for travelers.”

Wirt cringed at the reminder, “And...there’s no other way to keep this lit? Can’t I just, like, buy some oil or something? Somehow...”

“The Unknown is not of your world, Wirt, and I have no doubt that oil from outside would only contaminate the lantern. On that note, I do have some oil stored for you during this...transition. However, I’ve no idea how long it will last for you, considering you prefer to spend your time outside of the Unknown, so we will have a limited and very vague time period during which to teach you. I cannot guarantee that you can return to your brother every night. Do you understand?”

“I...teach me what?” Wirt asked, hands clenched around each other and the lantern. The shadow sighed, “Your brother was so much more bright. If you are to be groomed as my heir, you must adapt to the Unknown, of course. Your physical traits will shift, you will have more power over the elements, and I imagine your mind and heart will not remain untouched. The Unknown is just as much inside you as you are in it.”

“Do you speak from experience?”

“The Unknown created me. I know not whether I had a life before that, but I do know that the Unknown has made me this way for a reason. I cannot imagine it would not give you extremely similar, if not the same, abilities.”

There was a pause.

“Can I...see you?”

“Why? So you can fear me? Or so you can fear what you may become?”

“I…” Wirt's voice drifted off, and there was the sound of his shoe kicking at the floor.

“...very well, Wirt. I will lead you back to your riverbank, and then, then I will show you. I ask that you return as soon as possible; remember that the oil will eventually run out and I can no longer create an edelwood. The task will fall to you unless you want young Gregory to be alone.”

 

~

 

Wirt’s eyes couldn’t seem to adjust to the noontime sun, after that. After making his way home, he and Greg and Jason Funderburker stayed inside all day (Greg didn't question this, even though it wasn't raining), and Greg didn’t comment on the lantern that Wirt kept a protective hand over.

It was a few moments before the siblings headed off to bed (Wirt’s shower had been...surprisingly easy), when Wirt sighed, “Greg. I...look, it’s a long story.”

“Oh, a bedtime story! Cool!” Greg grinned, excitedly scrambling into his bed. “Is it yours?”

Wirt couldn’t resist a smile. Greg was so innocent and pure, and Wirt suddenly wished that Greg never had to grow up, just stuck in time, in the Unknown, never to be corrupted-- Wirt blinked, and Greg furrowed his brow in worry, “Wirt? Are you okay? Your eyes are all colourful and glowing. Like--”

"What?" Wirt rushed to the bathroom, wiping the remnants of the steam from the mirror. Oh-- oh no-- his eyes-- it was more muted now, like a faint overlay of pink and yellow and blue, but his eyes were very much _not right coloured_. They stopped glowing, though? That was...no, nothing about this was positive. All the more reason to tell Greg, as soon as possible, before the Unknown made him look like-- made him unrecognisable. He hesitated in front of the mirror, wondering what fresh distortion awaited him come morning, or even a week...his hands clenched as he pushed away from the bathroom counter. Greg was peeking out of his bedroom, “Wirt? You okay?”

“I...alright, back in bed. Story time.”

Greg obediently walked back to bed, holding Jason Funderburker as he settled into bed. Wirt noted that he did this with significantly less enthusiasm. What an amazing big brother Wirt was.

Wirt settled on the edge of Greg’s bed with a sigh.

“Alright, remember when the lantern appeared? Well, I mean, that was yesterday, that's a dumb question. Anyway, I... _he_ gave it to me. It was like a dream, but not, at the same time. Like the Unknown-- I didn’t remember falling unconscious, but the next thing I know, he’s there. He told me that...well, the Unknown apparently decided to stick my soul in the lantern. So I guess I’m the new lantern-bearer for the Unknown, and he told me that he’s dying, which I think is good, but I think I’m going to become him and _I don’t want to, Greg_ . I just-- I just want to forget everything-- even Beatrice and the Woodsman and Lorna and, and  _everything_ if it meant I could just move past this…”

“Come on, Wirt, you don’t mean that. Then Jason Funderburker wouldn’t have a name! And I know you like Beatrice and Lorna and Uncy Endicott and Fred and all of our adventures! Right?”

“Yeah, but...Greg, I’m becoming the-- I’m becoming a monster, like _him_ \-- I can’t even say his name!”

Greg shifted until he could place a hand on Wirt’s shoulder, “You’re not the Beast. You’re my big brother, Wirt, and that’ll never change. Even if your eyes glow prettily and you have antlers like a reindeer.”

Wirt’s shoulders shook, “I just...I don’t know if I can do this...I don’t wanna die, but I don’t want to...he- no, the Beast- expects me to make edelwoods!”

Greg sat solemnly beside Wirt, and Wirt immediately regretted unloading on his brother. Greg was supposed to be the happy one, always smiling, but now his face was much too pensive for a child of seven. Wirt wrapped his arm around Greg, placing a kiss on his forehead, “Okay, that was a cruddy bedtime story. But it’s time for _someone_ to be in bed right now.”

Greg nodded, giving a reassuring smile at Wirt, “We’ll figure something out, brother o’ mine. We always do.”

What ‘we’? All Wirt did was get them into trouble and made Greg get them out of it.

_Maybe they would be better off if Wirt stayed in the Unknown forever_.

_Ah, yes, forever with the edelwood._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> made it barely whoo this is like my schoolwork now  
> but its still sunday  
> whoop  
> 'sometime i just want to drive around and forget all of my responsibilities  
> but those responsibilities would never let me'  
> said every emo kid who stayed up too late ever
> 
> EDIT: uhm, yeah, so there's not an update this week. stuff and things.  
> I might slow down the schedule to one chapter every two weeks, at least through April, just because of life issues and I need to think about where I'm gonna take this.  
> But uhm, yeah, I'm not abandoning this (not yet, anyway)!


	4. something clever that disses school. but cleverly.

It didn’t really feel like the school week started until the annoying alarm yelled at you to get out of bed already.  _ Greg’s  _ wake-up tactics had more mercy, and the boy’s strategy was ‘jump around and throw everything off the bed’ until Wirt got up.

Wirt pressed the snooze button, snuggling back under the blanket. Five minutes later, like- well- clockwork, the alarm started back up. With a groan, Wirt sat up and turned off the alarm. He groggily started going about getting ready, and it was as he slipped a red vest over his shirt that he paused. He walked over to his mirror, staring at his eyes from a few angles, as if the way he viewed them would make the colours return. His eyes remained brown, and Wirt gave a sigh of relief. He finished getting dressed, and it was with mild hesitation that Wirt left the lantern on his bedside table. It danced merrily, freshly fed with the oil that the shadow had given Wirt and oblivious of its origins. Wirt made sure to close his bedroom door behind him-- it wouldn’t do for his mother or Greg’s dad to see the light and get curious.  _ That _ would be easy to explain. ‘Oh, yeah, I got that lantern from a creepy shadow in the woods. Don’t worry, it’s safe, it keeps me alive with oil from trees made from kids who got lost in the woods. By the way, I might start to grow antlers.’

_ Yeah, Mom wouldn’t be worried at all. _

He fixed together a quick breakfast of cereal as he listened to the shuffling noises of his mom and Greg’s dad getting up and ready. It was followed shortly by the sound of one of them opening Greg’s door (and yes, Greg’s door had a distinct sound-- that of numerous objects jangling as the door shoved them aside and the muffled child-appropriate cursing as the unfortunate victim stepped on Legos).

“Good morning, sweetie,” Wirt’s mother smiled as she stepped foot on the ground floor. “How’d you sleep?”

“Fine,” Wirt replied with a shrug, taking a bite of his breakfast. It was surprisingly true. The colours in his eyes hadn’t kept him up much longer than finding that perfect, elusive line for his poetry had often done-- nevermind that he hadn’t completed more than a few stanzas in months, and those were usually about  _ pink and blue and yellow _ and water and darkness.

“Did Greg fall asleep alright? No nightmares keeping you up?” his mother continued, undeterred by her son’s lack of response.

“No, he was fine,” Wirt said, “I told him a story, and he was out like a light.” Ish.

She smiled, “Glad to hear it.”

“Morning, Wirt!” Greg’s chipper voice preceded him as his father carried him into the kitchen. Wirt turned in his seat to flash a smile at his brother, “Morning.”

“Aw, beans. Your eyes are back to normal.”

Trust a seven-year-old to understand secrecy as reveal-everything-to-everyone. Sure, Wirt hadn’t told him to keep it hush-hush, but c’mon.

“Greg, what are you talking about? Another dream?” Wirt hid his unease with what he hoped was an amused smile. It must’ve failed to an extent, because Greg’s father cut in with a mild scolding, “Now, Wirt, don’t give him that look. Let him have his fun.”

Wirt resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he went over to the sink to wash out his bowl. He had accepted his brother after last Halloween, but the same couldn’t be said for his stepfather.

 

~

 

Wirt’s morning schedule had been disrupted by the lantern-- he had spent far too long deliberating whether or not to take it with him. Logic triumphed, and he left the lantern as he slipped on his socks and hurried downstairs. He hurriedly put on his shoes (though not rushed to the point of forgetting to tie them), and hefted his backpack onto one shoulder, calling out into the house as he did, “Mom, Greg, I’m going now!”

 

~

 

The day was as good as could be expected. From the moment he entered the artificially bright prison and slid into his seat for first period chemistry, he wanted to go home. It didn’t help that Sarah sat next to him due to the seating chart-- what had once been a blessing for his blossoming crush had recently become a curse that cut deeper with every uneasy glance. Okay, sure, one day he was going to have to cut down kid-trees to survive. It didn’t mean that he was going to go after her all Lizzie Borden style.

Especially not since he still wasn’t over her. He had no idea why she had started hanging out with him to begin with (thanks to Greg’s interference, probably), but he had no idea why she had stopped hanging out with him either. Even if it hadn’t hurt a lot, it was still curious. 

He didn’t jump into the rabbit hole this Monday, though; his thoughts were fixated on the lantern, and during his creative writing class, his brainstorms ended up with a lot more flame than his writing was typically filled with. He wished it meant he was over his aquaphobia. He knew he just had other things weighing more heavily in his mind than almost dying, like almost dying.

 

~

 

Monday passed, as did Tuesday in a similar fashion. It was Wednesday when Wirt came home only to deposit his bag and grab his lantern.

“Where are you off to, young man?” Wirt’s mother asked as he turned back to the door. He hid the lantern with the help of the wall. “A friend’s house?”

Sure, the shadow was kind-of-not-really a friend. And Wirt was going to that sort-of house.

“Yeah.”

“You never left the house for anything other than Sarah, but I thought your friendship was rocky. Did you two make up?”

“Ah...yeah. We just, you know, talked. Like normal, responsible people who have problems. And then resolve those problems. With conversations. Normally.”

Totally convincing. Wirt’s mother narrowed her eyes as if she could see through him, before smiling, “Don’t be so shy! I think your crush is adorable. Bring her around sometime, alright?”

“C-crush? What, no-- we’re just-- I don’t--” Wirt was cut off with a look. His mother shook her head with a smile, “Say what you will. I was a lovestruck teenager once, surrounded by other lovestruck teens, believe it or not. Be safe, Wirt, and don’t stay out too late.”

“Yeah. Will do,” Wirt replied.

Needless to say, when he headed out the door, it was not towards Sarah’s house. Wirt felt bad about lying, but it had to be done. If he told her that he was going to the riverbank one more time, he had no doubt that she’d get him a therapist. She already threatened to do so on a regular basis.

He headed through the cemetery in a hurry, climbing over the wall and landing on the train tracks. He paused and took a deep breath after he made his way to the river.

“Alright, river, another ice bridge would be nice,” Wirt spoke aloud, and took a hesitant step forward. Like the time before, the ice crackled over the surface of the water and allowed Wirt to walk across the divide. Towards the end, he even walked with a little less mortal terror. Any confidence he had gained was quickly dispelled by the fence of trees.

“Uhm, hello?” Wirt called out. Naught but birdsong answered, and it was with a twinge of unease that the boy advanced into the forest (the Unknown?). He walked along, finding himself led by the forest-- whenever he turned in a wrong direction, a branch cracking or the chirp of some animal would redirect his course. He didn’t notice that the woods had thickened until he was in front of the hut from before.

“Wirt, you made it. We were wondering if you’d listen.”

The voice seemed almost pleased.

Wirt turned, “Why weren’t you there? Did you expect me to remember the way or something?”

“Of course not-- there is no path to remember. I expected you to listen. Be aware of the forest.”

“You know ‘beware’ is derived from ‘be aware.’ That’s not exactly reassuring.”

“I’d say we’re far past petty reassurances, wouldn’t you agree? I am here to open your eyes, not blind them,” the shadow murmured. “Come now, your first lesson awaits.”

Even with the lantern, it was hard to follow the shadow- he was an extension of the murky blackness that dwelled outside the lantern’s gaze, and his distinctive eyes were turned away from Wirt. Or, at least he thought they were. After a moment, he was aware that he heard no footsteps outside of his own. Wait, did the shadow even make a sound? He paused.

“Okay, I’m listening or whatever. Where do you want me to go now?”

“How can you listen if you’re speaking?” the voice came from behind him, and Wirt whipped around. Nothing.

“Do more than listen. Feel the forest. Feel the soil, the roots, the branches.”

“How can I--”

“Hush, Wirt.”

Wirt shuddered as the voice danced along his back like a winter wind. Cold wood seemed to grow around his face, blocking his eyes and his ears. The lantern fell from his grasp as he clawed at the wood, “How am I supposed to hear like this-- what are you doing? Let me go!”

The grip- because these were  _ his _ hands, he knew it even though he had never felt them, only seen them in the lanternlight- was just tight enough that he couldn’t simply duck out of them, but it loosened on one side. Just enough for him to hear the whisper, “Your human senses are not needed here. Relax, Wirt. I will not harm you.”

Hard to believe when he was effectively blind and deaf. His struggles were fruitless, however, and the shadow did nothing to further restrain them. Though that was of very little comfort, Wirt tried to relax and do as he was asked.

After some period of time, he spoke, “I don’t feel anything.”

The hands around his face moved away, and he blinked his eyes open. Beside him, the lantern rested on a small tree. The tree retreated back into the ground when Wirt took the lantern up. He glanced behind him, his eyes complaining at the bright light of the shadow’s eyes.

“...hello?”

The light faded briefly, as if the shadow had blinked, “Perhaps you should remain here for a while. I cannot imagine that the Unknown would not be reaching out to you-- it may be that your mind is resistant? Or it may be that your body cannot understand…”

The shadow’s talk had become more of a mumbled monologue than a conversation, and Wirt realised that he had about as much of a clue about what was going on as Wirt did-- the shadow just seemed to know everything because this was his turf. That was comforting in a certain way, because that meant the teen knew about as much in this situation as a probably-ancient tree-person.

And it was also extremely foreboding, because a clueless probably-ancient tree-person was not reassuring to the teen who was already thrown off by this whole affair. Wirt was worried that everything was going to go up in flames, perhaps literally.

As Wirt followed the shadow back to the hut and listened to his mutterings, he began to wonder what would happen if the shadow wasn’t there. Would the Unknown lead him?

Or would it let his flame flicker out, leaving naught but ash?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, look, it's a thing  
> yeah, that's right  
> see? not abandoned. i love this thing. yeah. whoop whoop.


	5. along the fields

Wirt wasn’t what one would call energetic, although he often tried to fake it in order to keep up with his brother’s games and shenanigans.

That being said, it was hard for him to sit still for any long period of time. And it was apparently hard for the shadow to deal with his pacing for any long period of time.

“Wirt,” the shadow broke the almost-silence of the hut suddenly. “I haven’t the patience for your fidgeting.”

“Yeah, well, I haven’t the patience for your...sitting around,” Wirt replied, his come back totally impressive enough to shut the form up. It obviously had nothing to do with the fact that the shadow was one of few words when he didn’t need to speak. After a moment, the shadow stood (if the wooden creaks were any indication), heading to the door of the shack, “Follow me. Perhaps this will be easier for you with a more amiable presence.”

“Like Beatrice?” Wirt asked, as he followed the shadow out of the hut.

“‘Beatrice’? I’m afraid the name is unfamiliar.”

“Then...the Woodsman? Endicott? Lorna?”

“The first would chop me down on sight, and I’ve no wish for an early grave, despite what I am. As for the last two, I must again repeat that I know them not,” the shadow replied. After a pause, it amended, “Actually, I believe Adelaide spoke of her once. This Lorna dwells with Whispers, does she not?”

With a cringe, Wirt thought of Adelaide and her sister. Sure, the latter had been more-or-less well-intentioned in the end, but the thought of her still gave him the creeps, “Uh, yeah. So anyway, who are we seeing anyway?”

“Out of guesses already? We’re a mile off yet; see if you can’t determine the answer by then.”

Wirt raised an eyebrow at the shadow, detecting a note of amusement in the other’s voice. He followed the shadow silently, “Is it someone I know?”  
“You should.”

“Alright, uhm. The first person we met was the Woodsman, and then...we went north to Pottsfield- that’s when we met Beatrice. Are we going to Pottsfield? The schoolhouse? Then after that we got lost-- Fred? That crazy tavernkeep?”

“Well, you certainly aren’t going to all four.”

“So one of those is right?”

“Did I say that?”

“Are we going to...Pottsfield?”

“Well, that’s not really a fair guess, considering that it’s right there, hm?”

Okay, the shadow was all but laughing at him, Wirt could tell. After sparing a glance for the night-coated town, Wirt glared, “Don’t mock me.”

“Merely an observation.”

“I don’t think I’ve heard you amused since the olden days,” a voice remarked, and Wirt jumped, shifting his lantern up to see a grinning pumpkin. Enoch tilted his head as soon as he recognised Wirt, “Oh, dear, I do wish I hadn’t been wrong about you. The lantern is a cruel master.”

“Yes, a terrible fate indeed. Can you house him for now?” the shadow replied, tone suddenly curt. “I’m certain exposure to the Unknown will serve him well.”

There was near silence after that, filled only with the rustle of streamers and wooden creaks and groans. Wirt almost spoke up, but then the Beast’s eyes closed, or he turned away, and suddenly the only light was the lantern.

Enoch gave a sound like a sigh, staring at the spot where the shadow (maybe) was, “Honestly, that one is hopeless.”

“I guess so?” Wirt shrugged, looking around. “I don't know what just happened. He knows I don't know the way back though, so I don't know why he would leave if he did.”

“Can you not feel his presence in your domain?” Enoch asked, as if that were the obvious solution.

“This isn’t my... _domain_ , or whatever,” Wirt replied, gesturing with the lantern. “I thought I just had to keep _this_ lit. I don't understand all this extra-senses stuff.”

“Oh. Dear me, you can’t have been here long if the Beast hasn’t told you that much,” Enoch muttered, bringing a streamer to his chin as if in thought. The rest of his body shifted in restlessness, and he spoke again after a moment, “Well, nothing to do about it now. If you would please, over the fence, and be careful of splinters.”

“Fence? Oh,” Wirt shifted the lantern down, and a short, wooden barrier separated him from Enoch. He made his way over the fence quickly-- it wasn’t hard to do one-handed, considering that it _maybe_ reached his waist.

He yelped when he felt something dry and slithering brushed around his waist. Whatever it was drew back at his yelp, “Oh, forgive me. I suppose it is more polite to ask before you carry someone, but I didn't want you to get lost.”

“I'm not a child,” Wirt protested, bringing the lantern up. “I can follow you fine.”

“I apologise. I had no intention to belittle you,” Enoch replied, streamers held up as he backed off. “I merely wished to make the journey more convenient. Now, how long have you been here since the lantern claimed you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey  
> hey, you  
> yeah, you person who cares enough to read the end notes
> 
> I totally need a beta. Someone who can tell me to buckle down and write or when something just completely sucks. Like this. This was short. This was lame. I'm sorry.  
> Also, preferably someone who can talk Gravity Falls with me.
> 
> So hey, yeah, if you know someone or are someone who likes to read stuff before it's published and tell people what to fix...I've got a DeviantArt (boop: http://angelicera.deviantart.com/), I've gotta Tumblr (boop: http://angelicera.tumblr.com/)  
> halp
> 
> :)  
> <3


	6. hey lol miss me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wirt finds out that Enoch can be a cat when he darn well wants to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I messed around with the ending of the last chapter, so if this beginning sounds a little bit familiar, that's why.
> 
> And as always, I could really use a beta, or, heck, just a writing buddy who will let me talk about this story and tell me everything I'm doing right/wrong.  
> I've got a this, a DeviantArt (http://angelicera.deviantart.com/), and a Tumblr (http://angelicera.tumblr.com/).  
> I don't bite, seriously, so feel free to hit me up.  
> Even if it's just to chit-chat.
> 
> also i'm not dead but i have a lot of gravity falls and crossover stuff going on in my head so i might try to get that out of the way and then maybe these updates will come a lot easier to me

Enoch was noticeably less intimidating when one was viewed as an ally rather than an invader, Wirt realized. And while this was true for most people, the difference between a maypole acting as judge, jury, and executioner and a maypole acting as a welcoming mayor was astounding. His whole manner changed, his demeanor was much more open, and he became a _lot_ more talkative. Wirt realized he had caught a glimpse of that difference as he was fleeing Pottsfield, and he almost wished he had accepted the other’s offer the first time around.

Anything was better than becoming _him_ ( _he_ seemed to agree with the sentiment, and Wirt almost felt some sort of sympathy. But he didn’t _have_ to go after Greg or Wirt, so the ‘almost’ remained a very definite part of clause). At the same time, though, Greg didn’t quite fit such a quaintly macabre little village, and he might not have made it home had he braved the Unknown alone (even ignoring _him_ , Greg might not have escaped Adelaide’s clutches or any number of unfortunate events).

A dry slither around his wrist startled Wirt out of his head, and he glanced up at Enoch with wide eyes, “I- uh-“

“You haven’t heard a word, have you, living one?” Enoch said, his tone more amused than anything. The cloth smile seemed to be genuine, all considering, but Wirt had no clue whether he could shift the fabric or if he just maintained a constant grin. “I do imagine that this is a lot to take in- the Beast is impatient as ever, I would imagine?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Wirt replied. He paused a moment, before deciding that he only had so many people who would allow him to vent at them (Greg, his mom, Greg, and maybe Enoch) and would understand the Unknown (Greg, Beatrice, Greg, and definitely Enoch). “Like, less than a week ago, he basically handed me the lantern and said ‘here’s your soul! Take good care of it by using children’s souls!’”

“Ah, I had wondered about that,” Enoch murmured in reply. “And did he say anything of his own being? It seems strange that his being would be contained in such a vessel and still have room for another’s soul.”

Wirt shrugged, “I don’t know. He makes it sound like he’s dying, but…”

He was as chilling as he ever was. Okay, maybe not quite, as Wirt figured that if he was going to get rid of Wirt, he would have done so by now. But still, _he_ was totally unnerving. There was a pause that Wirt only noticed due to the other’s downcast response, “I see.”

There was another silence, and Wirt didn’t want to interrupt his thoughts, so it lasted until the pair stopped in front of a barn—Wirt recognised it from their first visit.

“Ah, we’ve arrived,” Enoch’s cheerfulness only seemed to be a little forced. He opened the barn door, “Come in, and do make yourself at home.”

Home. Wirt wanted to go home. Nevermind that he had left maybe an hour or two ago. Time worked weird here, and he didn’t trust it- a minute or, heck, a year could have passed, and Wirt would have no indication. Besides, the barn wasn’t exactly…home-y. Hay wasn’t exactly comfortable, and the darkness (though much easier on his eyes than the bright Pottsfield sun) was foreboding. Wirt held back a sigh as he made his way to a pile of hay on the ground and sat down. Okay, it wasn’t as bad as it could be, but it was still pretty uncomfortable.

“So…” he started, trailing off. Enoch hummed to encourage him to continue. “So, uh, are you and _him_ , like…friends?”

“Do you mean the Beast?” Enoch asked. Wirt gave a nod and a raised eyebrow. Like he would be referring to anybody else? Enoch took a breath, seeming to be arranging his words before he spoke, “The Beast and I, in our youth, were…close. But-“

“Wait, you guys had a ‘youth’?” Wirt furrowed his brow, trying to imagine a little shadow or a Greg-sized maypole. That was a weird image. Enoch gave a chuckle, “Oh, yes, but it’s embarrassing to discuss. I must admit that before Pottsfield, I was rather…unrestrained, shall we say? But the Beast used to be such a mild little thing, and a rather handsome specimen of tree, if I may say so.”

“Uhm,” Wirt interrupted before Enoch could continue (and the maypole’s voice indicated that he was just getting warmed up). Seriously, it was like they were talking about different people. Mild? Really? He couldn’t imagine it, even if the shadow had apparently not always been quite so evil. Quiet, maybe, but he could hardly picture the shadow as agreeable or timid.

The ‘handsome’ point was a whole other matter, but maybe fabric pumpkins appreciate the ways trees look. Wirt wasn’t even going to touch on that.

“Oh, heavens. I do apologise- once I get started, my mouth gets ahead of me. I trust that I answered your question to an extent, however?”

And then some. Wirt gave a nod, “So he’s always been that way? All…wooden?”

“Yes, since I’ve known him,” Enoch responded. “Were you worried about your appearance being affected?”

“Well, yeah. My eyes were glowing when I was talking to my brother last night, apparently.”

Enoch gave no reply- Wirt wasn’t sure if he was thinking about it or if he was letting the conversation die. Enoch gave about as many facial cues as the shadow did- that is to say, none. Once a few moments (seconds, minutes, hours? Silence stretched) passed with no sign of a response, Wirt gave up on getting any reply. He gave a near-silent sigh and leaned against the wall of the barn.

He wanted to see Greg, but he didn’t know if Enoch would let him go home. Even if he got out of Pottsfield, he was uncertain if the shadow would track him and send him back.

Wirt closed his eyes, and dozed to the sound of shifting straw.

 

~

 

When Wirt had stepped out of the barn the next…morning? Afternoon? Whenever. When Wirt stepped out of the barn, Enoch had warned him that most citizens of Pottsfield were resting until the next Harvest.

At first, it was almost eerie, the moniker ‘ghost town’ fitting more than ever. But the glimpses he got of pumpkins and bone moving inside the houses quickly shifting from unnerving to comforting- honestly, the living dead wasn’t that terrifying compared to, you know, almost drowning and wow, of course he had to think of that.

Wirt paused his steps and took a deep breath. He was fine, Pottsfield was landlocked, he was fine. Wirt jolted and gave a ~~yelp~~ manly shout of surprise when he felt something brush against his leg. A black cat meowed at him from where the creature had brushed against Wirt’s leg, and the boy let out a breath. He bent down to pet the cat, giving a smile, “Hey, little guy. What are you doing here?”

Logically speaking, the cat probably belonged to a resident of Pottsfield, but it didn’t seem to fit, considering that it was basically the only flesh-and-blood creature there (except, he supposed, the turkeys, so maybe the cat’s presence wasn’t so unexpected). The cat seemed content to rub against his leg and be pet, and Wirt was content to stay there for a while. Eventually, though, the position became uncomfortable, and he stood, “Alright, little guy. You should get home, before someone worries.”

Wirt wondered if long enough had passed for anybody to be worrying about him. Well, his mother always worried about him…but not in the way he currently meant. With that happy thought, Wirt continued on his walk. The cat trailed alongside him.

“I don’t have anything for you,” Wirt told it. “I mean, I probably have some hay in my hair, but that’s about it.”

To demonstrate, he pulled out a piece (wait, he actually found some?) and handed it to the cat. It gave some sort of huff which Wirt had no clue how to interpret. He settled for dropping the hay on the ground and walking on. The cat walked on alongside him. Weren’t cats supposed to be all solitary while dogs followed obediently? Whatever, the company wasn’t all bad. Well, it wasn’t, until the cat suddenly ran off. Wirt wasn’t worried, as the cat seemed to know what it was doing, but it was strange. Maybe it saw a mouse or something.

 

~

 

It was a few…indefinite increments of time later when Wirt went on his next walk. It was better than sitting around the barn curled around the lantern (he had, in fact, left the lantern with Enoch, a fact which a hole in his gut made him well aware of).

It wasn’t hunger that ate at him- no, he knew those pangs. From past experience and this time around, he realised that normal fatigue didn’t affect those in the Unknown- he recalled no hunger, thirst, or need for sleep. He did them when it was convenient, sure, but he felt no need for it. But though he wasn’t hungry, he was…empty. And though he didn’t know how to describe it…he did know how to fill it.

He didn’t want to.

Besides, the shadow had mentioned having leftover bottles of oil, right? Right? So all he had to do was find the shadow.

_And after that? When the oil runs dry, will you let your existence fade? Someone needs to feed the lantern…your brother would do it for you, if he believed your soul was trapped._

Okay, that wasn’t him.

That wasn’t him, and that couldn’t be the shadow, because the shadow wasn’t a telepath.

Oh, dear, okay, so he was hearing things, that was normal, that was- oh heavens- and he was once again startled by a black cat. The cat meowed up at him, as if telling him to chill the heck out. Or maybe just asking for attention.

“You just like startling me, don’t you, little guy?” Wirt said, running a hand down the other’s fur. He gave a smile when the creature butted its head against his hand, and scratched between its ears. After the cat had determined that it had been petted enough, it backed up with another meow. Wirt straightened up, and raised an eyebrow, “What do you want? I still have nothing for you.”

The cat turned, and started walking away. Wirt rolled his eyes, still smiling as he continued on his way. Well, tried to. A cat butting his leg in another direction made continuing a little more difficult.

“What?” Wirt asked. The cat meowed at him, like he was supposed to know what it meant, and started walking in the direction that it had been pushing Wirt. “What, do you want me to follow you?”

The cat said nothing (of course, it was just a strangely intelligent cat), leading him along the path…outside of Pottsfield. Wirt paused just outside one of the houses closer to the edge of Pottsfield, “Cat, where are you going? You’re going to get lost.”

The cat continued on its way, and Wirt chased after it.

“Come on, cat, let’s go back,” Wirt said, but as soon as he neared it, its walk turned into a run. “Cat!”

It was small, but what it lacked in leg-length and speed, it made up for with agility and control. And not untied shoelaces. Ow.

“Enoch, don’t play games with the boy. He’s not here for anyone’s amusement.”

The familiar voice sent shivers down his spine.

Wait.

Enoch. The cat sat on the ground, sending Wirt a Cheshire cat grin before meowing at the shadow. The shadow rolled its eyes, “I’m not here for fun. These are doing me no good, and the lantern should start to feel low in a few days, I believe.”

The shadow set down what looked like a wooden milk crate filled with vials of air and oil. Mostly air- of the twenty or so bottles, four of them had oil, although one was about half-full.

“How did you even make this?” Wirt wondered. An axe could only be so precise, and where on earth would he have gotten nails?

“Irrelevant,” the shadow replied. Enoch gave a meow, and the shadow shook his head, “I told you, I can’t stay-“

The cat meowed insistently, drowning out the shadow’s opposition, and turned to Wirt.

On one hand, he didn’t really want to hang out with the shadow. But it would be fun to be a witness to the shadow’s ire and discomfort (so long as it wasn’t aimed at him). What could a little bit of well-intentioned spite do?”

“Come on, ten minutes won’t hurt anybody.”  
“I can assure that it will most certainly hurt you if-“

Again, the shadow’s protests were hushed, although this time Enoch rubbed against the shadow’s legs. There was a groan of wood, and some rustling, a meow and then a sigh.

“Fine. Although if you try to keep me any longer…”

Enoch seemed content enough, heading off into Pottsfield with as much excitement as a cat could have. Wirt ventured out of the border just long enough to grab the milk crate. It wasn’t as heavy as he had imagined, but it wasn’t light, even when he lifted with his knees. That was what you were supposed to do, right? He was a poet, not a crate-lifter- that was his defense.

“Wirt, you will regret this,” was all the shadow said before he left the comfort of the forest. The sky darkened as he did, and Wirt had a feeling that the cloud cover wasn’t a coincidence. For someone who claimed to have no say over the Unknown, he sure had control over the weather.

The shadow made good on his threat and demonstrated his control—rain started halfway through the trek back. He barely made it back to the barn, and when he did, it was to Enoch’s concern and mother-henning and the shadow’s amusement.

He would have been mad if he hadn’t been on the verge of tears, muttering nonsense about ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, rainmaster, on one hand, rude.  
> On the other, it's the Beast and I derive pleasure from my precious's pain, so.
> 
> edit 7.12.17: 420 (VIEWS) BLAZE IT


	7. do you expect actual titles from me at this point???

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> eyyyyyyyyyyy  
> this is short but hey it's here and it's been less than a month since my last chapter i think so that's an improvement??  
> but i honestly have the next chapter more or less planned so it should be out by August fingers crossed? Maybe a little after, but I want to have a couple out before i enter the terrifying world of...college.  
> also I JUST BROKE 10k words which is more than i've actually consistently done before except one nanowrimo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I could really use a beta, or, heck, just a writing buddy who will let me talk about this story and tell me everything I'm doing right/wrong.  
> I've got a this, a DeviantArt (http://angelicera.deviantart.com/), and a Tumblr (http://angelicera.tumblr.com/).  
> I don't bite, seriously, so feel free to hit me up.  
> Even if it's just to chit-chat.

The Beast took the penultimate bottle with shaky fingers, letting the oil swish inside but careful not to spill any. No, no, that wouldn’t do, to spill. No, he needed the oil, needed, needed- the Beast opened the lantern, shuddering at the ease which flowed through him.

Wirt took a breath as he shut the lantern, placing the empty bottle inside the milk crate. One bottle left, now. And then he’d have to…he sighed, and the maypole beside him stirred.

“Living one?” Enoch spoke with concern. Wirt glanced up, and shrugged, “It’s nothing.”  
It wasn’t nothing. He wanted to see Greg. He didn’t want to have to…become the monster that had tried to kill Greg _no, not kill, he should have joined the forest fed the forest he will be part of_ \- Wirt curled up, running a hand through his hair and catching on tangles. It felt gross. he didn’t know how long he had been here, how long since he had showered last? When had he last seen Greg?

How long had it been since Greg had last seen him? A matter of hours? Days, weeks? Would his brother be 8 or 9 or 10?

“I want to see him,” he muttered, voice cracking. “I need to see Greg.”

“Greg?” the maypole questioned. “Is that the headstrong little living one you traveled with? He was such a dear little thing, I would be happy to take him in upon his passing-“

“That’s- he’s my brother and he’s not- Greg’s not dying anytime soon. We’re not talking about that,” Wirt interrupted. After a moment of silence, he repeated, “He’s not. He’s fine.”

“Pardon my boldness,” Enoch replied. “I meant no offense. He is a bright young living one.”

“Yeah. Yeah, he is,” Wirt replied, standing up. Enoch shifted, “Where are you off to?”

“I want to go home.”

Enoch gave a sigh, “I would let you, but you remember what the Beast said-”

“I’m going,” Wirt insisted. During his gracious visit, the shadow had made sure to reiterate that he was basically stuck here until he was sufficiently ‘the Beast.’

_With good reason. The world out there is unpredictable, so easy to be abandoned, unloved, avoided. The forest will always be here, ready to be molded._

Wirt shook off the voice, moving towards the door. And though he expected Enoch to protest, he didn’t expect the streamers that wrapped around his arms.

“Let me _go_!” Wirt kicked at the streamers fruitlessly.

“Please calm down, living one. I’m not doing this to spite you or harm you,” Enoch tried to soothe the boy, just as fruitless as Wirt’s struggles.

_Calm down. Relax. He will relax in turn and when you run, the forest will welcome you._

Wirt froze. Enoch wrapped more streamers around him, around his waist, and lowered him, his grip changing from restraining to comforting. The entity murmured in some indeterminate tongue, more relaxing than meaningless ‘you’ll be fine’s and ‘you’ll be alright’ and ‘it’s all in your head’ because the ice wasn’t just in his head and the voice wasn’t his and- he took a breath.

“Time is a strange phenomenon, living one,” Enoch eventually murmured to the mortal shivering in his grip. “It has no grip over the Unknown, and, as such, has no grip over you. Take what comfort that you can from that.”

Wirt looked up at him, “You mean…?”  
“I mean as I said,” Enoch replied, releasing his hold on Wirt.

_Come._

“So Greg won’t…change without me?”

_He’ll never change here. Come. Come._

“Not so long as you wish it.”

_Wishes are empty dreams. Come to the forest, only the forest can make that a reality. COME._

Wirt tensed, and grasped for Enoch’s streamers. The voice pressed more and more at his skull, and he was all too happy to allow the maypole to wrap himself around Wirt. The voice lessened, then, until it faded to nothing. Enoch gave no question, which Wirt was grateful for, and when Wirt later separated himself, the voice didn’t return.

He slept well that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, if you like Gravity Falls, I have a GF fic called Unseen and I plan on updating that by the end of the week hopefully so...yeah. That's a thing.


	8. why does college exist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess who just started college  
> i did  
> why did i do this to myself

Wirt awoke when his resting place shifted under him, and he noticed the daylight streaming in through cracks in the wood with an agitated groan. He rolled away from the light until the streamers twitched again, and he glanced up at Enoch, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm?” Enoch responded absently, taking a moment to reply. “Oh, worry not, living one. Pottsfield simply seems to have an uninvited guest- I’m simply trying to determine if he’s unwelcome.”

“You can tell from here?”

“You’ll understand one day, living one, once your hold on your forest is solidified.”

“It’s not my- whatever,” Wirt rolled his eyes at the familiar discussion, sliding off of his makeshift bed and grabbing his lantern. “Do you want me to check on him? I could use the fresh air.”

“Would you? Human interaction might quiet him. He seems to be otherwise well-intentioned and I wouldn’t like to have to punish him for disturbing the peace.”

“Your idea of punishment is hardly harsh,” Wirt replied. “A few hours of manual labour?”

“You didn’t disturb us further, did you? And the work you did was quite helpful.”

Wirt couldn’t argue with that. With a final nod, he turned to the barn door and walked outside. He all too easily found the boy Enoch spoke of—it was hard to not notice the constant shouts.

“Dot!” echoed throughout the lifeless town. The thought of human contact sent an unfamiliar shiver running down the Be—Wirt’s back.

He was not the Beast.

_Oh, you will be_.

He was Wirt. He was human, he wasn’t—

“Dot! Where did you—”

The call suddenly paused, and Wirt looked up. A boy with fiery red hair stood in front of him, out of place in the village of the dead.

_Such a fiery spirit. He would burn nicely, can’t you feel it?_

No. He wouldn’t.

“Oh, hello,” the boy greeted. “Have you seen a girl, about my height? Hair and freckles like mine?”

“Uh, no. Sorry,” Wirt replied. So he was looking for someone, probably his sister. It was admirable; he didn’t need to almost die to realise that his siblings were precious. “But I can assure you she isn’t here.”

The boy gave a sigh, brow furrowing, “Thanks, I guess. We were playing in the woods, and she never came home…”

He kicked at the ground before he took a deep breath, “Well, if you see her, we live just a couple miles south of here.”

The vaguely rang a bell, though Wirt couldn’t place it. He gave a nod, before he paused, “Where will you go?”

“I’m gonna go find her, obviously. I know these woods better than anyone!” the boy boasted with the bratty pride of a child. He was hardly older than Greg- ten at the _very_ most.

“Alone? You’ll get lost just like your sister- and the woods are dangerous.”

“Pfft, you mean the Beast? He’s old news- hasn’t appeared in ages. I’ll be fine.”

If only the kid knew.

No, he wasn’t the Beast.

_Not yet, anyway_.

Shut up.

_Oh, come now. The oil’s running low…he would burn so sweetly, and you know what will happen if you don’t fill the lantern…_

Wirt gave a shudder. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to become the monster that had almost killed Greg, the monster that had terrorised him. Unfortunately, he was beginning to realise that the two were mutually exclusive.

“So, anyway, just send her home if you see her,” the boy continued, oblivious to Wirt’s internal dialogue.

“Wait,” Wirt said. He glanced at the barn. Enoch had been nothing but kind during his short stay, and it seemed rude to just leave without a word.

But whether he wanted to see Greg as a short-lived person or a long-lived monster, there was really only one option for him right now.

“I’ll go with you.”

Pottsfield was meant to be a paradise- the mayor’s kindness was only proof of that. And as sweet as that paradise was, Wirt needed to face reality.

He didn’t want to.

_Yes, that’s right. The forest will welcome you._

He was doing this for Greg. He would return to Greg one way or another.

_Now, don’t be so naive. You only have one choice. Unless you want Greg to bear your burden?_

“Are you sure?”

“No- no,” Wirt mumbled, and the boy furrowed his brow in confusion, “Are you alright?”

“What- oh,” Wirt glanced up. “Yeah, I’m sure. We don’t belong here.”

_That’s right. You belong with me. Come, little lightbearer._

Wirt tightened his grip around the lantern. That was wrong, and every encouragement the voice gave only served to solidify his unease. The boy paused a moment, then replied, “Well, two pairs of eyes are better than one. I’m Victor.”

“Oh, yeah. Names,” Wirt gave a nervous chuckle. “Those are important. You can call me…”

He paused. ‘Wirt’ felt wrong- it belonged to the other world. Perhaps even the shadow.

‘The Beast’ was absolutely a no-go.

But perhaps…

“You can call me the Pilgrim.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, i think i have a beta now but i haven't updated in a while so i wanted to get this out really fast  
> but if you want to talk to me about anything my tumblr is angelicera.tumblr.com so hmu
> 
> <3


	9. title drop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Into the woods,  
> It's time to go,  
> I hate to leave,  
> I have to go.  
> Into the woods-  
> It's time, and so  
> I must begin my journey."  
> -Into the Woods, that musical that really should have ended, like, a hour before it did. Like, it was fine. There was a good end point. And then it was like 'more run time' and it was just...so bad...I just...why...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miss me? Well, miss no longer! After much deliberation, I've decided to just have an open Discord (which you can find here: https://discordapp.com/channels/355012888685182977/355012889419055104). Questions, concerns, suggestions, prompts, come at me, bro. I mean, you could put it in the comments, but if you ever want to have a convo with me or want incessant, annoying updates on what I've having trouble writing this time...well. You know where to find me. <3

If the name ‘Pilgrim’ was at all strange to Victor, he gave no sign of it; he simply held his hand out and gave a smile, “Nice to meet you, Pilgrim.”

“Likewise,” Wirt smiled, shaking the other’s hand briefly. As their hands dropped to their respective sides, Wirt glanced around, “So do you have a clue where your sister might have gone?”

“Oh, uhm,” Victor gave a sheepish chuckle. “Kinda this direction? Maybe?”

Oh, dear. Great.

“That's…”

“Probably dumb? Don't worry, I'll be fine. With the Beast gone, there's nothing to be afraid of.”

He had no clue if it was intentional, but Wirt noticed the way Victor said that  _ he’d _ be fine. He said nothing of his sister's well-being.

_ Good ear, lightbearer. It would be all so easy to make him doubt her safety, hm? _

No, it was because Victor had no reason to believe she would be in danger.

_ Cute. But remember that you only have one vial of oil left, little lightbearer. You'll need to act soon _ .

The ‘or else’ went unspoken. Wirt’s hand tightened around the lantern, but he turned to face for the forest with only mild reluctance. His eyes strayed to the barn, and a slight pang hit him- Enoch had been kind to him, and it seemed rude to just run off. But it would definitely get the boy out of Pottsfield, which was really what he had been asked to do.

Besides, he would return. He wasn’t going to let this kid become an Edelwood, so the shadow would probably not let him leave. And Enoch wouldn’t either, by extension- the maypole had more loyalty to the shadow than to Wirt, he had no doubt.

Wirt let himself give a small sigh, and then returned his attention to Victor. Victor raised an eyebrow at the exhale, but gave no comment, instead choosing to start walking. Wirt easily followed into the woods, and the two were surrounded by trees and a young soul’s innocent determination.

 

~

 

It was now or never; the boy walked oblivious before him, back naively turned to the Beast.

_ No, that was wrong _ , Wirt thought to himself.  _ I’m not the Beast...not yet, at least. _

The lanternlight flickered, casting warning shadows on the trees around him. The darkness was beginning to settle over the pair as they walked.

_ So you keep saying _ .

“Pilgrim?” Victor turned, raising an eyebrow. Wirt hadn’t realised that he had paused, and he couldn’t help jumping slightly in shock as he was addressed.

“Oh- sorry.”   
“Did you see something?” Victor asked, glancing around as if his sister would suddenly appear from between the trees. He had grown increasingly (wisely) cautious as the sun started to fall, but his eyes were still wide and innocent.

So trusting, so precious, the voice cooed. Come now, he would glow so brightly.

Wirt’s fingers tightened on the lantern, but the Beast had no clue why.

“No, sorry,” the Beast replied lowly, advancing on the boy. The redhead took that as a sign that the Pilgrim was ready to continue, and turned to walk ahead, “Don’t get distracted. Even I know it’s not too safe after nightfall.”

Strange how one could fear common beasts but would not fear the Beast. Clearly, he was a fool. A naive child, stupid and sweet.

“Indeed,” the Beast murmured in reply. His light flickered, and he clenched his teeth at the void inside him. He shouldn’t have let it get this bad. He should have acted sooner. It was only luck that brought him such a delightful soul; he could all too easily have faded under the Harvest’s careless eye. He wouldn’t let himself die.

A while later, perhaps an hour past judging by the sun’s disappearance, the boy finally gave a shiver and paused, “We should find a place to stay the night. Dot must have gone another direction- there’s no way she would have gotten this far.”

The Beast hummed absently in reply. He would find her after he fed the lantern. Oh, yes, it was luck indeed that brought this child to him. 

The boy had turned around, and was gently pushing past the Beast, trying to retrace his steps. The Beast could hardly resist a grin at the proximity of the soul.

“Can I borrow that?” the boy pointed at the Beast’s lantern, “I swear, I can hardly see my own hand.”

The hand holding his lantern twitched, and the Beast paused a moment. After a pause, though, he held up his light, “Let me lead. I can find a place for you to rest.”

The boy pursed his lips somewhat, apparently in thought, but eventually shrugged, “Alright, I guess.”

The pair walked on, surrounded by darkness and an unnatural silence. The boy seemed increasingly unnerved by the lack of nightlife, pressing close to the Beast.

The Beast had to resist the urge to chuckle; it wouldn’t do to scare the child- fear mutilated the soul and wouldn’t allow the tree to grow as wholly. With the lantern as it was, the Beast needed as much oil as possible.

No.

That was wrong.

This was wrong, all wrong, he wasn’t the Beast, he wouldn’t be, Victor was trusting him to help find his sibling, what if Greg was lost where is Greg where who is Greg who was he--

“Pilgrim?” the redhead- no, Victor- asked in concern, resting a small hand on the Pilgrim’s elbow. The BeastPilgrimWIRT turned around, and Victor continued, “What happened? You suddenly stopped.”

Wirt glanced down in thought. Greg was his brother, Greg was safe, Greg was home. Wirt was not the Beast. Wirt was not wholly the Pilgrim. Wirt was Wirt and he was fine, even if the flickering light caused his stomach to clench. He replied after a long moment, “I...sorry. I got distracted.”

“Are you sure you’re okay to keep going?”

“I’m fine,” Wirt said instantly. Victor shot him an unconvinced expression, and Wirt turned away.

He could swear he heard the wind sigh.

_ The lantern is only growing dimmer. _

He was not going to hurt Victor. He closed his eyes, and concentrated on finding a place for Victor to stay. The shadow had tried to teach him that earlier, right? It was possible. Everything was dark, empty, and silent save for Victor’s shifting.

_ T̶͟HE̕҉ ̷̴͝L̷͠I̷G̕͢H͏T͜͝ ̸̸IS̵̨͟ O҉N̸Ļ̵Y͜ ̨F͢A̧D̵̷I̶ŅG҉͜ ͟A͘͠W̡͜A͘Y͝. _

Wait, what was that? For a second, Wirt almost felt-

“Pilgrim?”   
_ Y͘͜O̴U͘͞͝ ͝҉W̵̶̨͟I̶̢͟͜L҉̶͟L͘͡ ̢̛͜͏͏D̴̡I̷̡̕̕͝E͠҉.̸ _

No, it was gone, whatever it was. It had been vaguely bittersweet, the taste thrilling through his veins.

A hand on his, apparently reaching for the lantern, startled him, and he snapped his arm away from Victor as he gave a small yelp of shock. Victor seemed annoyed at first, but gave a grin, “What was that noise?”

So his voice cracked. Sue him, he was fourteen. He glared, avoiding the question, “Don’t startle me like that.”

Victor’s smirk faded only slightly, and he glanced around. His smile did fall then, “Of all nights for the moon to be mostly waning.”

Wirt had hardly noticed; it was then that he truly noticed how the dark hid nothing from him.

Well then. Night vision was certainly not the worst thing the Beast had given.

_ I can give you so much more than that, lightbearer. _

The light flickered, seeming to go out for a second. Wirt gasped and hunched over himself, his free hand wrapping around his waist as if that would ease the sudden shock of pain that stabbed his stomach, somewhat like hunger pangs. Victor wasn’t much better in the sudden and momentary darkness, although he didn’t have the disadvantage of pain.

“Pilgrim?” Victor ventured in concern, worried both for Wirt and for the darkness that surrounded the pair. “Are you okay-- we can rest, if that’s what you need.”

Rest? The Beast couldn’t rest, not when his lantern was so low. Honestly, why had he allowed the oil well to run so low?

Because he refused to provide the oil to fill it- Wirt should have used the last bottle. But that would have only waylaid the problem--

“Pilgrim?”

_ He would burn bright, and long. _

No.

_ But you know who would burn brighter? _

I won’t do it.

“Come on, Pilgrim, just a little farther- it’s not safe here.”

_ Your precious Gregory. _

No, Wirt would never, ever allow that.

_ I wonder what he would do if he believed you lived on in the lantern. _

Wirt flinched at the threat, and was suddenly aware of a small, concerned hand on his arm, and he glanced at Victor.

He was just looking for his sister. He had a family. A little sister. He didn’t deserve any of this.

But...Greg.

He thought of the boy shouting in Pottsfield for his sister, and he thought of the boy shouting through the snow for his brother.

Greg.

_ It’s not as hard as you imagine, little lightbearer. _

...Wirt was selfish; he always had been.

“She’s probably dead, you know,” the Beast- no, this was Wirt- spoke. His hand tightened around the lantern. “If it’s been this long and we haven’t found anything…”   
Victor paused, staring wide-eyed at the Pilgrim.

“What?”

Wirt straightened and turned to face the younger, shaking off the other’s hand. His expression of innocent shock threatened to give way to defensive anger or pure devastation.

“Logically? Your sister is probably dead,” Wirt repeated. It hurt to watch the other-- it was so easy to see a dumb fourteen-year-old who only realised how important his brother was once Greg had almost...no. Don’t think about that. Focus on this. Focus on getting back to Greg whole. A monster, but whole, nonetheless.

“You- Dot is fine! She’s probably home right now- we must have passed each other, or--”

“Then why are you looking for her?” the Beast prodded, taking a step closer. “I think we both know that she’s not home and that she’ll never get back home. I think we both know that you’ll fail. I think we both know that she and you will both perish from your shortcomings.”

“That’s not true!” the boy protested, taking a step back and tripping over a root.

The Beast cocked his head, “Isn’t it, though? You’re so delightfully naive.”

Honestly, it was a shame that he had to deal with this so quickly-- he would have loved to take this child apart piece by piece.

No, he was doing this because he had to-

_ Why lie to yourself? _

Wirt’s attention was brought back to Victor as the boy scrambled backwards, and the Beast smiled. He opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the boy, “Your eyes- they’re…”

The Beast raised an eyebrow. His eyes were rather normal; they weren’t as dark and dull as they had been before. Personally, he never understood why people felt that glowing eyes as abnormal or creepy (you think they would appreciate a light source. Honestly).

“You’re the…” the child’s breath seemed to give out, refusing to allow him to address the Beast by name. He scrambled back farther, “But- but you’re dead!”

The Beast was unable to resist chuckling at that, “Am I? Tell me, child, is the forest around you dead? Is the air you breathe dead?”

He paused. Then he leaned into the child, smiling brightly as the other’s back hit a tree, having practically cornered himself, “I  _ am _ the forest, I  _ am _ the Unknown, and I will live as long as there are foolish children like you who run into the woods.

“I just have to wait.”

_ Ah, yes. All you have to do is wait, my little lightbearer. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again plugging my new discord server, my tumblr (angelicera.tumblr.com), and the comments section down there bc I can <3


	10. a whole ten chapters, i'm proud of myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wirt has to deal with Victree Idk what to tell you guys are you expecting serious things from me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS. It's OCTOBER. It's spoop month. Hallo-freaking-ween is just around the corner! A month of Tim Burton, Coraline, and yes, Over the Garden Wall!!  
> Anyway. I'm hyped, in case you couldn't tell. Also, I'm on mobile right now so I'm just gonna plug my Discord server and my tumblr; the links are in the last chapter

The boy had tried to run away. The boy quickly realised it was pointless.

W̧͝͝i͏̛r̶t had made sure of that.

The shriek the boy gave when his foot fell into a rabbit hole had been delightful, but it was even better when the boy stopped screaming, stopped sobbing, and just...gave in.

There had been hesitance, then, and Wi̕rţ̷͞’s fingertips burned as if they were tearing at tree bark. But then the boy allowed the roots to take hold, and all hesitance had been lost in the face of a sudden surge of perfect stability. Wi̶̸r̛͞t҉ had to bite back a smile.

Then he paused, and glanced around. He felt a surge of bittersweetness, another taste of what he had felt earlier. Some of it was coming from close proximity--the boy--but there was a much more vibrant source...that way. With a bit of a dazed giggle, W̕͏i͟͝r̵t tore through the forest. The lantern gave a flicker from the wind, and he tripped on his own feet from the shock of pain.

Wirt blinked.

He looked back, but the taste (feeling) was muted now. He wasn’t sure how guilty he felt for not feeling guilty, but the taste (feeling) was...surprisingly, disturbingly pleasant. He imagined it was what being tipsy felt like.

Because the thought of turning people’s souls into oil wasn’t traumatising enough, he now had to have the thought of turning people’s souls into _alcohol_. Productive.

Wirt shook his head. He needed to focus, and get back to Pottsfield. He couldn’t let the lantern go out. He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the forest like the shadow had tried to make him, but besides the two bittersweet entities, there was nothing. There was the forest, and then there was nothing. Wirt opened his eyes. Yeah, that was a useful ability. If the bittersweet spots were people, though, maybe the other spot knew how to get back to Pottsfield?

With a sigh, Wirt continued to walk through the woods, pausing when he heard the sound of a girl trying and failing to not cry.

...they had been hardly a twenty-minute walk apart.

“Uhm,” Wirt ventured into the darkness, and the crying paused. A small voice quivered as it called out, “H-hello?”

Wirt followed the voice and saw a girl with vibrant red hair and torn-up dress. Her eyes were red and puffy, and she was covered in scratches from the forest.

“Are you Dot?”

The girl gave a small nod as she sniffed.

It would be so easy. W̷i͠r̴̡ţ͟ could easily herd her to her brother, watch her crumble--children’s minds could only stand so much.

The thought sickened him as much as it intrigued him, and his fingers tensed on the lantern. No, that would be...he would do what he needed to survive, and no more.

He might be a monster now, but he wasn’t going to be senseless about it.

He held the light up so the girl could see better, and held out his hand, “Your brother sent me. I can take you home.”

She was too naive. She slowly took his hand and actually trusted him to-.

He was never going to be a senseless monster.

He started to walk, slowly, so that her exhausted steps could keep up. Had she eaten, slept at all since she got lost? Wirt paused when he noticed her breath getting heavier, and closed his eyes as she rested. Like before, all he could feel was the bittersweetness and the forest. It was about as effective as any other GPS, in other words.

He gave a sigh, and knelt down to get a better look at the girl. She just seemed to be exhausted, poor thing, and not ill or anything. He wasn’t a doctor, but she wasn’t red, nor was she coughing or sneezing all over the place.

“Dot?”

Her eyes, sweet and wide, flickered open, and she made to stand. She looked about the same age as Greg, and definitely of a scrawnier frame, so he should be able to carry her at least a bit, right?

“Dot, can I pick you up?” Wirt asked, shifting the handle of the lantern so that it dangled off of his wrist. The girl paused, then gave a nod. She climbed onto his back when he knelt, and it was with only mild exertion that Wirt stood. She wasn’t that much lighter than Greg, and was a similar deadweight--no. Bad choice of words.

After a few minutes of walking, her breaths evened out, and Wirt wasn’t sure if he should let her sleep or not. Was that only concussions? He definitely wasn’t a doctor, but he decided it would be better to let her get some rest.

“What are you doing?”

Wirt jumped, and the girl on his back gave a sleepy groan. Wirt paused. Her breathing quickly returned to normal, and he aimed a glare at the two white lights before he continued walking, “I’m taking her home.”

“The forest-"

“Only needs one Edelwood at the moment.”

There was a pause, and then the shadow sighed, “You and your sentimentality. The souls of the lost were never meant to be found.”

“‘Lost’ wouldn’t mean anything if we never ‘found.’”

“Don’t play word games with me, Wirt,” the shadow paused, then added, “You’re going the wrong way.”

Wirt stopped, glancing at the shadow. The white lights remained constant, “You’re returning to Enoch, are you not?”

Wirt turned to the shade, and was just able to recognise the other’s outline. He recognised enough to follow one thin arm that was pointing in what Wirt could only assume was the proper direction.

If he died, he was going to find some way to haunt the shadow, he swore.

~ 

Wirt cursed loudly. It must have been four or so hours by now, and he was absolutely lost. He knew that was an exaggeration, because the lantern was still burning (barely), but he was growing exhausted, and honestly, Dot was looking more and more like a fuel source by the second. He had had to set the girl down some time ago, and she marched obediently alongside him with no complaints.

He heard a deep chuckle, and glared at the treeline, placing one arm protectively around Dot when she whimpered. Of course he had to start singing, rather than start a normal discussion.

“Dot, everything’s fine. I won’t let anything hurt you. Do you trust me?”

Dot glanced around nervously, but eventually murmured out, “Y-yeah. It’s just…”

“It’s really scary, I know. I’ll protect you, so be brave for a little longer, alright?”

She gave a nod, her confidence bolstered, and Wirt almost found it admirable that she didn’t notice that every word he said was just an empty promise. He didn’t have a clue where he was going, his internal GPS system was simply saying ‘food here.’

He forced himself to walk on, away from the voice, and couldn’t resist giving a grin when the treeline faded into pumpkin fields. He minded his step, careful not to step into any pumpkins, and made his way over the dirt path, and if he had to use the fence for support, Dot made no comment.

And if the lantern flickered and he fell onto the ground, then Dot did comment.

“Sir? Sir!”

The lantern was faint.

He was not going to die.

He was just gathering the strength to stand up when his cheek started to sting.

A hiss dragged his attention to a black cat. A very displeased black cat with very sharp claws.

Wirt managed a small smile, even though he should honestly be conserving his energy, “H-hey…”

The cat managed an exasperated, maybe mildly amused huff, nosing a vial of oil in Wirt’s direction. Dot looked confused at the whole exchange, but took the vial, “Should I put this in the lantern? E-even though it’s day?”

“Please,” Wirt muttered. The cat gave a small _meow_ of agreement, and the girl worked with slow, unsure hands. Still, she did a remarkable job of not spilling, and between that and the cat that rested against his side? Wirt was feeling much better.

He let himself rest for a few moments, before he moved to settle on his hands and knees, and then stood. A _meow_ brought his attention to Enoch, and he knelt down so the cat could climb on him. Dot gave a shocked gasp when the cat scratched at his other cheek. He probably deserved that one too, and he was feeling a little too cheerful from not dying, so he wasn’t that bothered. He let the cat jump from his shoulders to the fence, “I’m going to take her home. I shouldn’t be too long.”

He paused, shifting his weight, and glanced at the girl behind him. After a moment, he turned back to Enoch, “I planted a tree. So.”

The cat straightened in surprise, but then seemed content. Enoch jumped from the fence and started to walk back to the barn without a single glance back. Wirt took that as a go-ahead, and brought to mind Victor’s old instructions. South, he said?

He’d figure it out.

~ 

About halfway there, the girl took the lead, familiarity giving the girl a burst of energy. Familiarity gave Wirt a burst of dread as they crossed over a small creek and a mill came into view. This is where the Woodsman had been, but then Wirt remembered that the Woodsman had repurposed it. And he had apparently rebuilt it before he moved on.

If the house had been abandoned, then who was filling it now?

The door opened then, as if to answer his question.

“I’m going to look for them--yes, I’ve brought plenty of ‘dirt,’ Mom, stop calling it that--”

A redhead, probably a little older than Wirt made her way out of the house, a rugged determination on her face and a knapsack on her back that were at odds with the blue dress she wore.

“Bea!” Dot exclaimed, giving a grin befitting her age. ‘Bea’ paused, the door half-closed behind her, and her eyes widened. She gave a smile at first, but then her face fell, “...Wirt?”

“Beatrice?”

Beatrice left the door open as she approached the pair. She hugged her sister first, “You go inside and- and don’t ever do something like this again. I don’t care if you were playing hide-and-seek or tag or- or let’s-get-as-far-away-from-the-house-as-we-can, don’t you _dare_.”

“I’m sorry, Bea,” the girl hugged back tightly, sniffling like she was about to cry again. As soon as she was released, she ran straight for the house, the door shutting behind her.

“And you--” Beatrice rounded on Wirt, giving him a brief hug before fussing over him, “I thought you left, and- thank you so much- why do you have a lantern in the middle of the day- wait. Wirt, is that…”

Her rambling cut off, and Wirt bit his lip and looked away.

“Wirt.”

The grass was very interesting. Hey, that was the rock that-

“ _Wirt_ . Look at me.”

Wirt obeyed. Beatrice’s glare was fierce.

“Tell me you didn’t.”

“I didn’t have a choice.”

“Wirt, you always have a choice.”

“They were all bad choices,” Wirt replied. “I…”

Beatrice’s hands were rather uncomfortably like talons when they curled around his arms, “Wirt, you know as well as I do what that lantern means!”

“I didn’t want to _die_!” Wirt tried to defend. “And it was- it was everywhere, it was haunting me, and- and it threatened Greg. I couldn’t just…”

“You know you can’t trust anything he says! Wirt, how could you be so _stupid_ ,” Beatrice ran a hand through her hair, messing up the hairpiece she had. She threw it on the ground. She paced away from Wirt, then back again.

“So _stupid_!”

She tore the knapsack off her back and threw that on the ground too for good measure. “You’re such a stupid idiot, Wirt!”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I just- if you say you had to...I believe you,” Beatrice paused, and then continued pacing. “But _honestly_!”

Wirt let her exclamations run their course, and eventually, she stopped.

“I just need some time to process all this. I still like you, alright? We’re still friends, so don’t get any dumb ideas. I’m going to find my brother,” Beatrice bent down to pick her knapsack up off the ground. Wirt gulped, “Uhm.”

Beatrice froze in the middle of putting her knapsack back on. Her eyes slowly met Wirt’s, and she watched him with a searching gaze. There was a calm before the storm, and then her face twisted in agony. Wirt couldn’t deal with that, and glanced away. He missed the moment that her face transformed into pure rage, but was glad for the shift anyway. He could deal with curses and a thrown knapsack, he could deal with cries for him to go away and rocks tossed. He couldn’t deal with causing someone he cared about that amount of pain.

He turned and fled, wishing he was oblivious to the tears crawling down Beatrice’s face.


	11. penultimate chapter o.o

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> just one more to go??? on Halloween yw  
> But yeah, I enjoyed this but I'm glad to have it done. I've found Camp Camp -u- My fanfic-writing, fanart-drawing self is obsessed lol

“Your goodwill served you well,” the shadow remarked with amusement. “You’ve turned one of your own friends against you.”

Wirt wanted to be mad, but the remark cut too much for him to work up any anger. If he knew that Beatrice just needed time, it would’ve been different, but...her  _ brother _ . He had taken her brother from her, like the Beast had tried to take from him, and...he gave a sigh and bit back any poetic expression. He refused to give the shadow any more material to mock him with.

Before too long, the forest gave way to the familiar fields of Pottsfield, and Wirt stopped at the border of the treeline. He glanced at the shadow, who had paused not too far away, just out of reach of the sunlight.

“Are you coming?” Wirt asked after a moment. The shadow seemed as if he wouldn’t respond, but then he eventually muttered, “I had better not. I shall see you in due time.”

“You say that like you’re not welcome in Pottsfield or something,” Wirt remarked almost offhandedly, noting the other’s use of ‘had better not’ instead of ‘would rather not.’ If the shadow was going to point out sore spots, then so would he. Also, the flinch he received was mildly satisfying.

“That’s...not quite accurate. Still, I would not dare to enter the Harvest’s territory without permission.”

Wirt knew that Enoch would waste no time in inviting the shadow, and would probably never rescind said invitation. For such an ancient creature, the shadow couldn’t seem to tell a good lie- his excuses were shallow at best, and, judging from the way he just shifted his balance, he probably knew that. Before Wirt could say anything, though, the creature turned and fled, and Wirt gave half a smile before he turned towards Pottsfield.

As soon as he entered the barn, he heard the shuffling of shifting streamers, and Wirt couldn’t resist a smile at the familiar sound. It had grown comforting in the unidentifiable mass of time he had spent with the creature.

“I must say that I’m glad to see you, living one,” Enoch spoke. “I was quite surprised to hear about your change of heart.”

Wirt gave a sigh and shrugged, “I didn’t really have a choice, did I?”

“Living one, you always have a choice.”   
Wirt flinched. Beatrice had said the same thing. And while the statement was technically true, he only had one practical choice. Right? Right.

Wirt let his uncertain silence speak for him, and there was a pause before he felt the gentle weight of a few streamers. He gave a sigh before he muttered, “I want to go home.”

“You have a home here, if you wish it.”

“No, I mean.  _ Home _ home.”

Enoch paused, and the streamers tightened, though their hold was still gentle. Eventually he replied, “I shan’t keep you, living one.”   
“But the Edelwood-”   
“It needs time to grow, and he was quite strong-spirited. He shall last for some time.”

“So I can really…?”

“If you choose. But if you do leave, living one...well, I’ve grown quite used to company. I’m afraid I might get somewhat lonely.”

Wirt gave a small smile, “I’ll be sure to pass that along.”   
“I would be most grateful if you did.”

 

~

 

“And where are you going, Wirt?”

Wirt paused, turning halfway to the creature as he answered.

“I’m going home. We have one of your precious Edelwoods and I want to see Greg.”

“And if the lantern goes out? Are you really willing to risk it?”

“I’m going home,” Wirt repeated and continued walking.

The shadow followed soundlessly behind him, eventually muttering, “You can’t escape. You will return.”   
“Yeah, I’m not dumb. I’m coming back.”   
Wirt stopped again, and glanced at the shadow. “Also, you have permission to enter Pottsfield, so don’t use that as an excuse. At least talk to Enoch?”

“Do not speak of things you don’t understand--”

“Think of it as a favour,” Wirt interrupted, and there was the whistle of wind through branches. The trees were still. After a pause, the creature spoke, “I...suppose it would not be terrible to have the Harvest indebted.”

Wirt rolled his eyes, but said nothing further. He didn’t want to give the shadow a reason to not follow through. He continued on his way, and he saw the lake before he thought he would. He pushed through the final barrier of bushes, and immediately cringed at the sunlight. It had been day in Pottsfield, but it had felt somewhat muted compared to...this. His eyes took far too long to adjust, but by the time they had, Wirt was able to see a thin sheet of ice over the lake, completely unfitting with the heat bearing down on him.

He hurried across the frozen surface, feet sturdy and sure on the ice, and made his way around the wall. The Eternal Garden gates were shut as Wirt walked past, which struck him as strange--the gates had been closed for up to a month after Wirt and Greg had gotten out of the hospital, but had then been left open again.  He briefly wondered if another accident had occurred, but left the thought at the cemetery gate. He didn’t want to run himself ragged worrying, for once. He wanted to see Greg.

He smiled when he saw the familiar landscape of his neighbourhood. The appearance of his home soon followed, and it was with a grin that he turned the doorknob and...the knob jiggled, but didn’t turn. Strange. His mother was usually home at this time, and she left the door unlocked. He glanced over his shoulder. The car was in the driveway, so she didn’t drive anywhere. With a furrowed brow and a frown, he knocked on the door.

The door opened moments later. Why was the door locked if she was home?

He offered his mom a small smile as she stared at him. There were bags under her eyes, and her shoulders slumped. She blinked once, and Wirt fidgeted under her disbelieving gaze. She blinked once more, and Wirt muttered, “Hey, Mom-”

In the span of a second, her arms were around him, warm and alive. Nothing like cold, mocking wood, nothing like dry, soothing streamers. Wirt wrapped his free arm around his mother, burying his face into her shoulder. She smelled like home and sadness and relief. Mostly home.

His shoulder was wet when she finally pulled away, though she kept her hands on his shoulders, “Wirt Wyatt Holloway, where on  _ earth _ have you been!? It’s been months without a single  _ word _ , we thought--where on earth have you been?”

Tears still crawled down her face, even though her face hardened. She wanted answers, and Wirt wasn’t sure how much he could (or should) tell her.

After a moment of silence, she herded him inside, gesturing for him to take a seat at the kitchen island. Without even asking, she started to prepare two cups of tea. Her fingers shook as she filled the kettle, and she worked in silence. The kettle whistled before either spoke.

It wasn’t until she set a mug of tea in front of Wirt that he spoke, “I’m sorry.”

“Where were you? What happened to you?” she asked softly. Her hand settled on his back, rubbing comforting circles. He glanced at the flame beside him, the fire as merry as the atmosphere wasn’t. Wirt gave a sigh before looking at his mother, “Mom, I...you remember Halloween?”

She gave a flinch, breath catching. Wirt waited for her to calm before he continued, “I...I don’t think I was supposed to come back.”

“What--sweetie, you can’t mean that!” his mother protested, her hand stilling on his back. “You’ve no clue how relieved I was when you woke! Your father loves you,  _ Greg _ loves you!”   
“No, I mean-” Wirt cut himself on. No matter what Greg or he did or said, chances were that she wouldn’t believe that it wasn’t some life-or-death hallucination world. It was real. She didn’t understand. And he didn’t need her to understand because she  _ couldn’t _ .

“Mom, I can’t stay.”

“What--Wirt, honey, what do you mean? Is someone threatening you, or--”

“It’s not like that. I’m…”

He paused. He was Wirt, he was the Pilgrim, he was the Beast (to a certain extent). He didn’t want to believe he was a monster.

He flinched when the front door opened, and he heard the bright sound of Greg’s voice in animated conversation, “I told him that it was abstract, but he just told me to colour in the lines!”

There was some muted, amused response from Greg’s father, and Wirt turned in his seat just in time to see Greg appear from around the wall. He couldn’t resist a smile. Greg had grown slightly, and his hair was getting unruly. He was surprised they hadn’t already cut it.

“Wirt!” Greg grinned, and ran over to his brother. Wirt had just enough time to stand and brace himself before his legs were attacked in a hug. He gave a small huff of amusement, messing up Greg’s hair, “Hey, Greg.”

Greg’s smile was as pure and bright as the day he left.

“What have you been up to, brother o’ mine?”

Neither parent spoke, then, but he could feel them watching him, could practically feel them begging him to answer. He considered how to answer, considering his audience--he could talk about the Unknown all day to Greg, but to his parents? They would call him crazy. He wanted to part on good terms, if possible.

He apparently paused too long, because Greg was pouting somewhat, “Earth to Wirt! How was the Unknown?”

Well then.

“Greg, did you have to give it away?”

“I didn’t give anything away! Well, I did give Suzie Miller my grapes because I don’t want them, but--”

Wirt chuckled, rolling his eyes. Still, a glance at either parent sobered him right up, and he ran a hand through Greg’s hair as he organised his thoughts.

“Look, Mom... _ Dad _ \--” he could use all the brownie points he could get, even if the word was all wrong-- “I...when we were in the lake, we entered the Unknown.”

“You’ve told us this before,” his mother responded. “You said that you should’ve stayed--but why?”

Wirt reached for the lantern behind him, and held it up, “The Beast’s life was tied to the lantern. He tried to turn us into trees, to keep it lit.”

“But Wirt defeated him and saved me!”

“Uh, yeah. I guess. Greg saved me first, though,” Wirt gave a bittersweet smile. He had found that piece of information out later, when he wondered why he hadn’t become a tree when the roots had grown around him. But that was irrelevant and mildly disturbing to think about. “Anyway, not too long ago, he returned. I...I had to do it. To protect Greg.”

“What do you mean?” Greg’s dad asked. Wirt sighed, “Whoever’s lantern this is...they said that they would make Greg the lanternbearer if I didn’t take it. I couldn’t risk it if they weren’t bluffing.”

“Sweetie, that’s why you come to us! We can protect you, it’s why we’re  _ here _ , Wirt!”

“Mom--”

“No, Wirt, this is ridiculous! Why can’t you just accept that you need help?”

“Mom, I’m not crazy!”

“Amanda-”

“There are no such things as monsters--”

“Amanda, Wirt, please-”

“I am the monster! I had to  _ kill _ a  _ child _ !”

 

There was a pause, and it was with a shaky breath that Wirt shifted backwards, supported only by the island.

It wasn’t him. It had been the Beast, it had been because he had to.

_ He didn’t do it _ .

It was him, but it wasn’t  _ him. _ He wasn’t a monster. He wasn’t the Beast, not wholly.

 

“Wirt?” Greg’s father hesitantly broke the silence. Wirt hadn’t been aware of much, but somehow between his exclamation and now, his mother had left the room, and Greg and Greg’s father had taken seats at the island.

Wirt paused before he responded, “What.”

“I...never believed much in the otherworldly. But the place you and Greg speak of…” Greg’s father paused, thinking over his words carefully. “Your mother believes very strongly in the world that she knows, where everything exists as it appears--I honestly don’t know who you got your poetry from. But I do believe that, at the very least, you two did experience the Unknown.”

Wirt sighed, “I...I just don’t know anything anymore. Maybe I am insane. I don’t even know who I am half the time.”

“And right now? Do you know who you are right now?”

“Wirt?”

“Nope. You’re my surprisingly stubborn stepson. You’re Greg’s awesome older brother. And you’re Amanda’s extremely intelligent little boy,” he ruffled Wirt’s hair. “And I know you’ll figure things out. Even if it’s not here.”

“And what if I figure out I’m someone I don’t want to be?” Wirt asked.

“Then you’ll fix it. If not for yourself than for Greg.”

“And you can always come to us!” Greg added. “We can help you!”

“But I...I’m a monster. This is lit from the souls of  _ people _ .”

Greg’s father paused then, but then spoke, “I can’t say that this is what I ever hoped for for either of you, but whether or not I support you, I do love you.”

Wirt’s hands tensed before his body relaxed. He eventually aimed a small, fragile smile at his father, “That’s...fair. Thank you. Dad.”

“Of course, Wirt. And I’ll talk to your mother about everything-” the man was cut off by Wirt leaning in for a hug. Their father smiled, wrapping his arms around his oldest son.

“So, does take-out sound good to the both of you?”


	12. the end(?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> midnight is still halloween, right?

“College, huh?” Wirt asked. Greg gave a bittersweet smile, “College.”

Wirt shook his head in amusement, “I swear, just yesterday, you were hardly my height.”

Greg was never one hundred percent sure if his brother was literal when he said things like that, so he brushed it off, “You know, Mom’s gonna be ticked if you’re not at my good-bye party.”

“She should have known to not have it in the middle of the day, then. She  _ knows _ my eyes won’t adjust anymore.”

“What about my eyes?” Greg pouted, gesturing at inky blackness in front of him. The moon was new, and the stars were covered. The only light was four dots in front of him. “Human eyes aren’t meant for this.”

He barely heard the whistle of wind. The trees were still, and Wirt’s huff of mixed amusement and annoyance was his only indication of what the wind meant, “Don’t be mean. I was human once, too.”

“Is he trash-talking me?” Greg asked with a grin. “Tell him I can break his twiggy back without breaking a sweat!”

“I find it amusing that you believe you could hurt me, Gregory.”

“Yeah, yeah. How’s Enoch doing, anyway?”

There was the shiver of roots, and Wirt spoke up, “He’s doing fine. It’s nearly harvest time, so  _ this one _ is a little aggressive.”

“Too much light?” Greg asked. “I could make him a cloak if you got me a pumpkin from Pottsfield when I come back for Thanksgiving.”

“I don’t need your pity--”   
“Shut up. We get you a pumpkin and you get us some fresh pumpkin pie. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Wirt gave a chuckle. “I’ll be waiting. Speaking of waiting, we should probably head back--be safe, Greg, alright? I don’t want to be talking to your ghost until you’re at least seventy.”

“Will do! You be safe, too! Bye!” Greg waved.

“Fare thee well, young Gregory.”

The four lights blinked out practically in unison, and Greg turned.

He knew he should feel some sort of...sadness or whatever. It wasn’t Wirt and Greg anymore. It was Wirt and the shadow and Enoch. It was college and Greg.

But Wirt was happy.

And other people wouldn’t understand because they couldn’t, but Wirt was happy, and that was all that mattered. Even if things were different. Even if  _ they _ were different.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i might write an alternate ending and if i do that should start in the next couple of days so yeah


End file.
